


When One Has a Gorgeous Commander

by Ganelon8



Series: Stalemate [1]
Category: Lymond Chronicles - Dorothy Dunnett
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Friendship, Internalized Biphobia, Marriage, Missing Scene, Multi, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25701859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ganelon8/pseuds/Ganelon8
Summary: Following a conversation between Lymond and Guthrie in Checkmate, Danny hears a little more about what Jerott really thinks of their commander, Lymond.
Relationships: Francis Crawford of Lymond and Sevigny/Philippa Somerville, Jerott Blyth/Marthe (Lymond Chronicles)
Series: Stalemate [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900384
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	When One Has a Gorgeous Commander

**Author's Note:**

> I first read these books when I was 19 and just reread them over the last 3 months, and they are still amazing and dear to me. I didn't realize it was my own internalized biphobia I saw in Jerott when I first read the books and why I related so much to him, but it was so apparent on the reread that was why I had felt so close to his and Marthe in particular. It was heartbreaking to know how their story was going to end, and I like to hope that Jerott finds some peace in the future, potentially with Danny who I read as being very interested in Checkmate.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, this is based off a small conversation between Lymond and Guthrie, with this being the hinted at aftermath in Checkmate in Part V Chapter 6.

When Guthrie returned to the other captains after confronting Lymond, Danny was quite literally on the edge of his seat waiting to hear what the news was. 

He was leaning forward from his perch on a table, standing on his toes, his sandy hair a mess from a day in the field. His freckles had gotten out of control in the sun, much brighter here than England, than Scotland, than Russia. He was dressed like he had just come inside, too, as they all were in armor that ranged from piecemeal to leather to a gambeson to the unfairly gleaming set of plate that Jerott was wearing.

He had been a Knight of Malta once, Danny knew, as had Lancelot Plummer and others who had once been part of Saint Mary’s. Not all of the memories associated with them were pleasant, especially when Danny had nearly gotten the blame for attempting to kill their illustrious leader in Russia when it was a disillusioned knight. No, truth be told, Danny’s interest in asking about the Order had less to do with religious devotion, and more to do with interest in a certain ex-knight.

Alec Guthrie was quiet for a long moment, surveying the four other men in the room. Danny met his gaze then followed it from Adam Blacklock, who was putting the last touches on a letter which he had spent the last half hour bent over, to Archie Abernathy, who had been sitting and winning a game of chess with Jerott Blythe, who had been doing particularly poorly in the match since he had drunk a few glasses of wine. Danny wasn’t sure whose idea it had been to take the wine out, especially since Jerott had been drinking far less since he had left the city, and his wife, with whom it was apparent to everyone but him that they were unhappy together.

Predictably, Jerott broke the silence. “Well? What did he say?” Jerott’s face was flushed from the drink, his black hair tousled from where he had kept running his hands through it in frustration during the game.

It really wasn’t that Danny had been watching him, but it was hard to keep his eyes on the supply lists he had meant to be going over.

Even after seeing Jerott with Marthe, after seeing the knight sigh and drink and glower, when he smiled or laughed Danny found himself an unintentional observer. Even rumpled and stained from the field and half drunk as he was, Jerott was worth looking at. His black hair now that it was growing longer had a wave to it, and one particular curl that always seemed to twist up and brush his cheek, bronzed under the pink from spending so much time out of doors. He still had the physique of a knight, not the tallest man in the tent but certainly built the strongest, with wide shoulders and a sturdy chest. And, dear God — dear Maeve! — when he smiled, it made Danny feel things he had thought were just in the ballads Lymond would quote.

“It went as expected,” Guthrie said, stepping further into the tent and taking a seat near Adam, who cleared some papers for him. That didn’t quite answer the question, although the answer itself and the reaction was not unexpected.

“Give ‘im time. He’s been through a lot,” Archie said, already looking back at the board. He perhaps knew a little more of the situation than the others, which Danny was jealous of, but his brown weathered face gave away none of Lymond’s feelings that might have been shared, accidentally or otherwise.

“He is meant to be our commander here,” Adam said, a frown pulling his mouth down, accentuating the scar along his face. “If he is unwell, and unable to do his job…”

“Then he ought not to have returned here from Sevigny,” Danny finished when it became apparent that Adam wasn’t going to.

“Yes, but what did he say?” Jerott, persistent, tipsy, said.

“I told him that he ought to follow your advice, Jerott, and get himself a girl to sleep with,” Guthrie said. “We’ve no shortage of camp followers, and aren’t far from a town where there’ll be fancier mistresses more to his liking.”

“I’ve never said that!” Jerott said, color in his face flaring.

“Unless you have a step-sibling,” Guthrie said, putting particular emphasis on that last word, “whom we do not know about who’s been standing in for you, then aye, we’ve heard you say this.”

He might have been drunk, Danny wanted to say, but that would have been unkind. It wasn’t drinking out of happiness, just as Lymond’s drinking back when he had partook was not from joy.

“I don’t,” Jerott said, the implication luckily not offending him.

“Perhaps you did not say it in quite as many words,” Adam said gently, “though the idea of finding solace in another when the one you love is not in love with you is not an original idea.”

“It isn’t as though it was a bad suggestion,” Guthrie said. “It just isn’t for him, that’s all.”

But Jerott wasn’t going to let it drop. “I didn’t say that,” Jerott said, taking another drink, “and even if I did, everyone seems to be agreed that he and Philippa are unsuited anyway! She is, she is far too good for this sort of life.”

“I hardly think she intends to join Saint Mary’s, even if their marriage is a true one,” Adam said.

“She is very clever! But she doesn’t want him, if he’s here,” Jerott said. “So, if he found someone who looked enough like her, then that might help him forget. Or not. I don’t know, it didn’t work out well for…”

But he trailed off, unwilling to say the last word. Danny watched as Jerott abruptly stood, executed a bow with shocking courtliness for how drunk he was, and nearly ran from the tent.

“Did everyone but me know this?” Danny said, looking from the other three to the other.

“Don’t tease him about it,” Adam said, sighing as he looked down at his letter. That was all the confirmation he got, and really all the confirmation that he needed.

Danny must have said some sort of excuse, since he found himself running after Jerrott. Marthe was not really Lymond’s step-sister, but half sister. And they did look frighteningly similar. The person that Jerott spoke of was himself, and if both he and Marthe were pining after someone whose features they had seen in the other, no wonder both were so unhappy to realize the true face it was that they had married. 

And, perhaps a little of Güzel’s face he could see in Jerott, though his hair was shorter than hers it was as dark. They each had a sharp hawklike nose, both had firm jaws, low voices, and dark eyes. Güzel had not mentioned Marthe ever in Danny’s hearing, but he had not spent as much time with her in Russia as Lymond had.

They were both fools, and Danny cursed them both under his breath as he nearly tripped on a grassy rock as he followed Jerott to the edge of the woods.

He saw in the evening light as the knight halted, pressing his forehead against a tree, back to Danny. So Danny slowed his approach, making sure that he made a little noise so that he didn’t scare off the other man.

“What do you want?” Jerott said with a sniff, not turning.

“I just wanted to see if you were alright,” Danny said.

“I’m fine,” Jerott said unconvincingly, and kicked the base of the tree. “Would’ve been better if you brought the bottle.”

“I think you’ve had enough for this evening,” Danny said lightly, even though he wasn’t smiling. “Jerott, will you look at me?”

Slowly, Jerott turned, though pressed his back against the tree. His face was still red, as dark as the wine he had been drinking. “What do you want, Danny?”

“I just wanted to see if you were alright,” Danny said, staying rooted where he was a few paces away.

“Look, Danny, I don’t want to talk about it,” Jerott said, crossing his arms and pulling them tight to himself.

“Jerott,” Danny said carefully, still not moving forward, “it’s alright. I’m not here to tease you, or shame you, or anything.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jerott said, stiffly.

“I’ve seen you and Marthe, and—”

“Danny,” Jerott said, in a low voice. 

Danny wasn’t fool enough to ignore the warning, so he changed tactics. “You weren’t in Russia. So. I hadn’t been recruited by Lymond himself, and only came face to face with him in Russia. And do you know what I said to him when we first met?”

Jerott gave him a flat look but obliged. “What?”

“I told him right away that he was gorgeous, and I had to sit down,” Danny said.

For a moment, Jerott blinked at him. “You said what?”

“He is a very attractive man,” Danny said.

Jerott blanched, then he flushed as dark as the wine he had been drinking. “You,” Jerott began, unsteadily, then tried again. “You said he was gorgeous as soon as you met him.”

“I did,” Danny said, and Jerott sank back against the tree. “I hadn’t meant to say it aloud, and I know for a fact that he has heard it many times from women and men. There was a woman I was with for a while in Russia, and I would’ve married her if she had wanted. But she didn’t so we parted. And. Well. Not all of my partners would have been the marrying sort, you understand. And you’re hardly the first person to take one look at the comte’s face and be bewitched. But yes. You seemed distressed, and I just wanted to say that, you shouldn’t feel the need to be.” The end was a little lamer, and Danny would have been lying to say he hadn’t felt the same panic before, when he was younger, as Jerrott seemed to be having, still having, now.

By the end of it, Jerott had shut his eyes. “Before now I hadn’t heard anything of how you met Francis,” he said.

Danny shrugged, even though Jerott wouldn’t see it. “It’s amusing now. Point is, marrying someone or sleeping with them because they remind you of someone you can’t be hasn’t worked for you.”

“That’s not what happened,” Jerott said, eyes flying open, the flush back, and darker.

“Is it not? Then why are you and Marthe quarreling every time you’re together? You basically lived apart even when you were together, and you two can barely stand to be in the same room as each other!” Danny said.

“You weren’t there, for the chess game, and after,” Jerott said, shaking his head, something in his eyes growing unfocused. “You didn’t see what Francis had to do, and after… Marthe and I helped him, after, and…”

And that closeness had seemed like something more. Danny wondered again what had made Marthe agree to marry Jerott, since he had undoubtably been the one to ask, then remembered again what he had seen of Güzel in Jerott.

Danny swallowed a sigh, and said, “I don’t want to argue with you about Marthe. But, I do want to see you happy.”

Jerott blinked at him, seemingly still drunk enough or else too honest to be able to protest that he was happy.

“And, I do think you’ve had enough to drink for tonight,” Danny said.

Jerott nodded slowly, pushing himself off the tree and standing on his own. “I think for the week. Or longer.”

“You had been doing quite well,” Danny said, stepping forward and patting him on the shoulder. “I’m sure everyone will be happy enough not drinking in front of you.”

“We did that with Lymond, for a while,” Jerott said, still a little unsteadily. Danny had noticed the slips earlier in calling the comte by his first name, and the switch again now.

So Danny nodded, and said, “Do you want to rejoin the others, or can I help you to your tent?”

Jerott was quiet for a long enough moment that Danny was worried he had dozed off standing up. At this point, it had gotten quite dark, the starlight being partially covered by thick clouds that were beginning to cross the night sky. “Why have you been so kind to me?” Jerott said, quietly.

“I’d like to be friends with you,” Danny said, and it was true, and he wouldn’t mind something more, but friendship was a rare and beautiful enough thing that he would never turn it down. “And I’d like to see you happy.”

There was still enough light before the clouds fully covered the moon to see that the flush was still on Jerott’s cheeks, though whether from the wine or conversation, Danny could only guess. “I would be glad to be your friend,” Jerott said.

“Then it’s settled,” Danny said, grinning at him despite the darkness.

“I think I wouldn’t mind seeing the others again,” Jerott said. So Danny nodded, and helped him pick their way back to the tent, still smiling as they went.


End file.
